


turn me on, turn me off

by amagpie



Series: start the spark [1]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, F/M, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, PWP, Post Season 4, Prostate Milking, Sub Quentin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 03:24:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18864739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amagpie/pseuds/amagpie
Summary: Turns out, Quentin only needed to mention that he didn't want to come today to get Margo and Eliot to dom the fuck out of him.





	turn me on, turn me off

**Author's Note:**

> Be the change you want to see in the world - aka, if I wanted there to be prostate milking/orgasm denial fic in The Magicians fandom, I had to write it myself. Enjoy!

Turns out, Quentin only needed to mention that he didn't want to come today to get Margo and Eliot to dom the fuck out of him.

Quentin's cock is so wet, and he’s trying to keep himself under control. He's trying with every clenched muscle not to rub himself against Eliot sprawled underneath him or back too hard against Margo's fingers inside him, but it's hard. He can barely believe they're letting him do this. He’s beyond grateful that they’re _making_ him do this. Every twist of Margo's hand, pressed right up close to his spot, every hard press wrings something deep in his gut and he kind of feels like he can't breathe.

Eliot leans up to give him a gentle, anchoring kiss. "Deep breaths." Eliot's hand on his face grounds him. He stares into his eyes, gaze searching and calm while Quentin looks back slightly frantic. Quentin wants this so much he's almost embarrassed.

"Oh my god," he breathes out with a particularly strong glide of Margo's fingers, "I'm trying."

"Of course you are," Margo sing-songs behind him, "And you're doing so well."

Quentin's flush deepens at the mortifying praise, but he stops himself from hiding his face against Eliot's shoulder. He wants them to see him, wants them to see how they affect him, how good he feels. It's like there's a livewire inside him barely held together by Margo's hands, Eliot's body.

Eliot reaches his hand down and runs one finger lightly up his hard, hard cock. The touch is barely there, but anything at this point feels like everything. Quentin lets out a guttural moan at the tease.

"Uh uh uh, " Eliot says, eyebrow slightly raised and eyes alive with mischief, "No coming. I know it feels good." And like the beautiful devil he is he runs another finger up Quentin’s cock. Quentin actually shouts at that, his back taught and body alive. How is he even still upright?

"This isn't about you coming, isn't that right, Quentin?" Eliot holds his cock lightly like a lover, fingers faint and barely there while Margo rubs deep.

And somehow being told he isn’t going to come makes him feel ten times closer to coming. "No, it's not about that," he agrees. Saying the words out loud fans the flame of desire in his belly even more.

"No. Good," Eliot praises, hand barely teasing, eyes darting behind him to look at Margo. He suddenly wishes he could see her, could see the image they make. He bets she looks fantastic kneeling strong and proud behind him, hand flush with his ass and making him feel so good, so safe, and so tortured.

"Hey dickwad,” Margo bites out at Eliot, “keep your hands to yourself. If this is gonna work, you gotta stay off his cock." Her hand presses each word inside of him.

"But it's so cute." And that really makes Quentin flush; he never thought he'd get off on his cock being called cute.

"If you can't control yourself, switch with me," Margo removes her finger, and Quentin doesn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

Her fingers wrap tight in his hair and pull him upright, his hard cock standing proud and eyes glassy. "Look at you."

He probably looks like a horny mess, is what he looks like. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he steadies himself on Eliot’s thigh, his other reaching back to grab ahold of Margo’s hip. Between them like this, he knows how perfect they are together, how well they complement him.

“Stay just like that, Q, we got this.” She whispers into his ear.

They move around him, Eliot sliding behind and Margo in front. Eliot places a gentle hand on his hip while he moves towards his ass, fingers briefly touching his hole. "I want to slide into you." He rubs his cock through the cleft of his ass,  hand replacing Margo's in his hair, "Maybe I'll fuck you after we wring you out."

"Please, that, yes I want that." He feels wild with this, how turned on he is, how much he wants to please him.

"Did you hear that Margo? Our boy wants me to fuck him until he can't see straight. Wonder what else he wants."

"Yeah, baby," Margo rubs her hand along her thighs, the other going to her clit. "Do you wanna eat me out?"

"Yeah, definitely that," Quentin almost gets his hair ripped in his eagerness, folding in half, ass raised and face pressed against Margo. The smell of her, the taste, all of it feels overwhelming but also like home.

"Good boy," Quentin hears, and with his mind on a task and eyes closed, all he can do is feel when Eliot slides his fingers into him and presses hard. Somehow with all the moving around, Quentin managed to forget how intense this feels. With his face buried in Margo's pussy and prostate being pressed so rough, he feels desperate, like a wild man aching to please and release. But he knows he's not going to release. And every time he remembers that, it makes him work a little harder, work his tongue a little firmer against Margo's clit. He wants them to wreck him and push him until he can't do anything but feel.

Quentin's so turned on, but it's like it's not centered around his cock anymore. His ass and his body and his mind are dialed up to 11, and he wouldn't be able to see straight even if his eyes were open. Sometimes he feels the strangeness of his desires: how he wants so badly to touch his cock, but at the same time he wouldn't even dream of it. Because that's not what this is about.

A tug on his hair brings him back to reality for a moment, Margo gritting out , "Focus, baby, focus on my clit." And he does. He pushes his entire face against her, jaw pressing down, as he runs his tongue up and down, over and over, getting lost in the repetitions the way he's getting lost in the feeling of Eliot working him up and up.

It feels so good, and so weird, and like the sensation is intimately tied up with the knowledge that he doesn't get to come. He gets two people he adores in his bed, two kings who want to take him apart and build him up and leave him shaky and spent, but he doesn't get to come. He feels something inside him rising up and up and-

"There's a good boy," Eliot's saying behind him, one hand petting him as his other pushes firm inside him. And, god, he's _leaking_. He wouldn't have even noticed if Eliot hadn't said anything.

Quentin lifts his head, distracted by the sensation of his semi-hard cock leaking without the usual sensation of orgasm to accompany it. He feels delicate and glassy and so turned on, but like all that energy is slowly getting drained out of him.

Margo tilts his head up to look at her, hand brushing his hair from his wrecked face. "You don't get to come," and he can feel his face fall, knows he must look devastated but he feels alive with it. "You don't get to come, but I do."

And with that she pushes his face back against her, makes him lick her, lick her, press against her while Eliot wrings everything out of him and takes his orgasm away. He feels so intensely for them. With Margo’s thighs crushing his head, Eliot pressed close behind him, and his orgasm dripping instead of exploding out of him, he feels more cared for and loved  than he can remember feeling before. He keeps licking and lets her press as hard as she wants on either side of his head until she’s full of her pleasure, shaking under him.

Margo relaxes against his face, and he just takes a moment to breathe her in while Eliot removes his fingers. He feels drained and empty, but still slightly on edge, like his body got the release but his brain hasn't caught up yet.

"Stay," Eliot whispers against his ear, and he can hear the sounds of him jerking off, rubbing his cock against his ass and back. The thought of Eliot, strong and good, with his big cock that gets to be all-the-way hard and gets to have a real orgasm, sends a zing of pleasure down his body that has nowhere to settle. Margo starts rubbing her own clit again and grinding her pussy against his face, just using him to get off a second time. The fact that his orgasm gets taken away so often wouldn't be quite as sweet if they didn't get to come as much as they like.

Eliot groans behind him, and he can feel the splash of come shoot over him. He feels messy with fluid: Margo's, Eliot's, and his own, all marking him up.

"You did so well," Margo says to him with a hand on his face and a tenderness in her eyes that he knows to be grateful for.

When he has enough energy to move, he scoots up the bed to cuddle into Margo, letting her pet his sweat-damp hair while he strokes her soft stomach. Eliot collapses next to him, throwing an arm over him that reaches Margo.

"You’re amazing," Quentin sleepily mumbles into Margo's shoulder. He feels so protected, if not a little on edge still.

"Aww, you're always so sweet when you don't come. Isn't he, El?"

"Very sweet." Eliot pats his shoulder and leaves a tender kiss at the base of his sensitive neck.

Quentin feels safe, and loved, and like he doesn't always need an orgasm to get sweet release.


End file.
